Cooking Hot Dogs at the End of the World

Cooking Hot Dogs at the End of the World
A fine piece of bad art by Amanda Dobbs, 4/2/2020
 
Today, I cooked hot dogs for my kid.
And I burned them just a little.
And I felt guilty.
Because I know the little things like making a hot dog “just right” matter right now.
And because I was using up two precious supplies – buns and meat – on “just lunch.”
            And maybe one day soon, there won’t be any more hot dogs.
            And maybe one day soon, there won’t be any more buns.
            And we could have had a sandwich (oh, but the bread is precious).
            Or we could have had cereal (oh, but the milk).
 
Today, I cooked hot dogs for my kid.
And I felt grateful.
Because hot dogs are her favorite, with a little bit of ketchup.
 And because my mom used to fry me hot dogs in butter.
            And maybe one day soon, we can eat hot dogs at the stadium.
            And maybe one day soon, we can eat sandwiches at the beach.
            And maybe one day soon, we can eat cereal in our pajamas
            Just because it’s Saturday.
            I guess a burned hot dog isn’t the end of the world.
            So to speak.